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I haven’t been inside her shop yet, but every time I pass the place, I want to stop in and grab a hot treat for myself.
Maybe this Friday, I’ll finally indulge and get one. I remember Greer’s words from earlier today.I love your body. These curves are a fuckin’ masterpiece. Now, who the hell made you feel bad about them? Give me a name.
Just remembering the intensity in his gaze when he said that makes me shiver. I’ve never had someone defend me. I never knew it would make me feel warm and gooey inside.
“No, it’s the tattoos that get me,” Dotty says. She’s also new to town. She’s an intern working atThe Courage Chronicle, the town’s newspaper. She says she wants to be a journalist, but the editor only thinks she’s qualified to grab coffee. She told me that with an eye roll before book club.
Her curly red hair cascades down her back like a curtain. She keeps twirling one lock around her finger while she talks. She’s wearing black yoga pants with a red flannel jacket over top of a white t-shirt.
She taps her combat boots against the floor, a soft thrumming rhythm. She’s constantly in motion with an enthusiastic, contagious energy. She continues, “I didn’t even realize I was into tattoos until recently.”
“Me either, especially arm ones,” I answer, thinking again of Greer. I’m not going to go on a date with him. That would be crazy, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t notice the cowboy is well-built.
I start to tell the girls about him but then change my mind. They’d probably encourage me to go out with him. I don’t need them breaking down my already fragile resolve any further.
When book club is finally over, I spend a few more hours at work before making the drive to the neighboring town of Sweetgrass River. The trip takes almost an hour. I hate every minute of it. I hate being so far away from my brothers. I worry they’ll need me, and I won’t be there for them.
As soon as I put my car in park, I send a text to the prepaid cellphone that Chase always has on. I let him know I’m arriving, so he doesn’t startle. He and Parker easily startle. It’s what happens when you’re raised by a junkie mom who eventually abandons you.
After the notification that my text has been read, I push open the door to the little hotel room. I hate this place with its weird, musty smell and water stains on the ceiling. I hate the way it feels like we’ll never rise above poverty.
But as usual, I swallow down everything and put a smile on my face. I can’t fix our messed-up lives, but I can give them an older sister with a sunny smile and a positive outlook.
“I brought pasta,” I tell the boys as I hold up the bag of pasta cans. It will get better. Life has to get better at some point…right?
Chase and Parker are at the kitchenette table with the rickety chairs. Chase is ten, and he’s playing on the phone. He barely even spares me a glance. His headphones are on his ears, but the blue button isn’t lit up, which means he can hear me. “Did you do your homework?”
He doesn’t bother answering, and I open my mouth to lecture him. School is important. Otherwise, you end up working menial jobs and scraping by like me. I don’t want that for him. I want him and Parker to succeed, to know what it’s like to have full bellies and shoes without holes.
Before I can start on Chase, Parker pushes the cracked school tablet toward me. He’s seven years old, and he’s already reading at a fifth-grade level. He still thinks that studying is cool. He taps the picture of the house on the real estate website.
I’ve been telling them for the past few weeks that we’re moving. With a glance, I can see that Parker has found a million-dollar home. He might as well be saying he wants me to fly him to the moon on my back. “Can we move here? It has a basketball hoop!”
Before I can let him down gently, Chase sneers at his brother. “Stop being a dummy.”
Parker’s expression falls. He’s still so little, so sensitive to the slightest cutdown from his older brother.
I send Chase a warning glance. “Let him be. He's just dreaming. There's nothing wrong with dreaming.”
Chase cuts his gaze to me, disdain dripping from his expression. “It's for rich people. Rich people with a mom who likes them.”
As soon as he says the words, venom dripping from them, my heart squeezes in my chest. The familiar grief for all the things I can’t give them fills me.
At the same time, anger surges through me. My mom should be here. She should be the one protecting and comforting the boys. But she’s not. All my brothers have is me, so I clear my throat and say, “I like you guys. You are the most amazing and sweet boys in the whole world.”
“Whatever.” Chase jabs at the button on his headphones, and some rock anthem begins blasting. He stomps to the bed and throws himself down on it, furiously texting on the phone with his classmates.
Parker doesn’t say anything. He swipes the picture on the tablet closed and brings up the homework app. His shoulders are stooped, and he’s not looking at me anymore. I don’t have to see his expression to know his eyes are filled with tears. Someday, there won’t be tears. There will be rage, just like there is with Chase. I don’t know which is worse.
I take the vacant seat. Parker is a smart kid, but I try to sit with him every night and work on a few of the math problems together. I want him to feel like he has someone looking after him, taking care of him.
We work together in silence for twenty minutes before Parker says in a small voice, “Family Day is next month at school.”
Chase’s earlier outburst makes even more sense now. “I’ll be there.”
Parker shrugs. “Nathan says his mom and dad will be there. Plus, his aunts, uncles, and cousins. All I have is one stinky sister.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat and work to make sure my voice comes out evenly, “Our family looks different, but that doesn't mean it's any less special.”
